Oblivion
by curiouschance
Summary: It's another Harry Potter abuse/depression fanfic. Harry is violently abused by his Uncle Vernon during the summer, and spends most of his time at Hogwarts attempting to deal with it. WARNING: Contains abuse, rape, cutting and suicidal thoughts
1. Prologue

**Oblivion**

Prologue

It was a warm morning in Surrey, and the residents of Privet Drive were out in their throngs making the most of the glorious sunshine. Hundreds of identical semi-detached houses were silent as their owners held picnics in the nearby fields or cycled along the river path.

To the outside eye, the suburb appeared idyllic. The people who lived there knew better. Appearances meant everything to the population of Little Whinging. Certainly they would enjoy the sunshine and lay out their tartan picnic blankets while people were watching.

They would smile at each other and give an amicable greeting along with a little "Isn't the weather just wonderful?". But as soon as they were out of earshot they would turn to their husbands, wives or friends and continue "I heard she and Jeremy are having awful arguments again – no wonder with how frumpy she's looking these days, I don't know how he can stand her" and their companions would laugh and agree, probing for further details.

Yes, although Little Whinging seemed every bit the lovely English suburb, it was a place in which people would only really look out for themselves.

For this reason, no-one had ever thought much about the skinny 15 year old boy often seen pulling weeds in the Dursley's front garden. He was there now, while the Dursleys were at a BBQ with one of the neighbours.

Although Harry Potter was glad to be able to experience the sunshine, the excitement had worn off several hours ago as his muscles had begun to ache with the effort of repetitive weeding. He was on his hands and knees, dirt all over his large hand-me-down shirt and jeans and a jagged cut on his arm where a thorn had viciously spiked him half an hour earlier.

Today was the 31st August and Harry would be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow.

His eyes were void of any emotion, and had large bags beneath them as though he hadn't been sleeping well. His body was slightly emaciated, and his cheek bones sharp, giving him a slightly crazed appearance.

He had been back at number 4 Privet Drive for over a month and in the time had clung desperately to letters from his friends as a refuge from the wrath of his Uncle Vernon.

He had realised this summer would be particularly bad when he had woken up one night screaming Cedric Diggory's name, still seeing the Graveyard for minutes after he was awake. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had awoken and his Uncle Vernon had slammed his bedroom door open, a murderous gleam in his tired eyes.

"WHAT THE DEVIL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BOY?" Vernon had shouted, purple in the face as he'd stormed over raising his fist.

"THINK THAT YOU CAN DISTURB US AT NIGHT TOO, DO YOU? IT'S BAD ENOUGH HAVING TO LOOK AT YOUR FREAKY FACE DURING THE DAY!"

Harry had cowered back, terrified, and Vernon had brought his fist crashing into Harry's stomach. The force of it caused all the wind to leave Harry, and he suddenly felt incapable of movement, unable to defend himself.

Vernon beat Harry again and again, careful to avoid the boy's face so that none of the neighbours would see. In the end he had leaned close to Harry, his breath rustling Harry's hair and whispered

"If you EVER wake me up again I'll show you how terrifying night time can really be". Spitting in the boy's face, Uncle Vernon had stormed out, bolting the bedroom door behind him.

Unfortunately for Harry, he had not been able to stop the nightmares and dreamed of the graveyard almost every night. Again and again he woke screaming, sweat covering his body and tears streaming down his face. Again and again, Uncle Vernon would storm into his room in a fit of rage and beat him.

But that wasn't all. Uncle Vernon had truly meant what he had whispered on that first night. The next time Harry had woken him, he had unhooked his belt and whipped the boy with it.

He then proceeded to pull his trousers down and had violated Harry in the most awful way. Harry had been absolutely frozen, in shock at what was happening as Vernon gyrated again his behind, grunting with effort and finally ejaculating inside Harry.

After that, it happened almost every night. Not once did Harry utter a sound or defend himself. He felt helplessly broken, disgusted with himself and ashamed of what was happening. He had briefly considered sending a letter to Sirius begging for help but he couldn't face the disappointment that he knew his godfather would show him. No, this was something he would never confide in with anyone. It was too embarrassing, too exposing.

As the sun began its journey down towards the horizon, Harry stood and looked around the garden. Satisfied that he had managed to pull up all of the weeds he turned to head indoors.

"Harry dear, how are you?"

Harry spun around at lightning speed upon hearing his name, but it was only Mrs Figg, the Dursley's elderly neighbour who had a penchant for cats and knitwear.

She was gazing at him with a shrewd expression.

Harry quickly replied "Oh, hello Mrs Figg. I'm well thank you, just heading inside now"

He hoped this would be enough so that she would continue on home, but she was still gazing at him with that same odd expression

"Are you quite well dear? You're looking awfully thin" she asked enquiringly.

"Erm- yeah, I've just been a bit ill…" Harry trailed off as she nodded her head understandingly

"Well make sure you eat a healthy dinner boy, you look like a gust of wind might blow you over. You are always welcome at my house if you'd like some tea and cake" she gave him a small smile and hobbled on towards Wisteria Walk.

Harry watched her go, then spun around and hurried inside. Truthfully he had hardly eaten since being back for the summer. He had found he didn't have much appetite – something he suspected may correlate with the number of bruises and cuts on his back.

'I just have to make it through one more night, then I can go back to Hogwarts' Harry thought to himself, as he went into the kitchen to prepare dinner for the Dursleys.


	2. Back to Hogwarts

Chapter One

Harry was huddled in the corner of Dudley's second bedroom. The beginning of a dawn was hinting at the horizon, and a pair of finches chirruped playfully outside the window.

Hedwig hooted angrily at the birds, and they flew off as she fixed Harry wither her baleful gaze.

The Boy Who Lived had been up all of the previous night, petrified. His face now was pale and his expression wan.

Uncle Vernon had visited again. Had made Harry do things that he despised himself for. Harry had made himself sick afterwards, if only to wash the taste from his mouth. He could still feel Uncle Vernon inside him, inside his mouth and inside…

The thought of it made him wretch again, and he hastily took a gulp of water in an effort to keep the vomit down.

Vernon Dursley hadn't stayed away from Harry's face last night.

"Only your freaky little school friends will see this now, so what does it matter?" he had hissed, before hitting Harry so hard it felt like his neck had snapped.

He hadn't returned to bed afterwards. Instead, he had sat with his back against the wall, facing the door and holding a picture of his parents. Salty tears had marked the photo frame as his parents in the photograph danced and laughed with each other. What would they think of him?

How he longed, as he had a thousand times before, for them to be alive. How different his life would be. He might even have a family as big as Ron's, a real home with a real family.

His heart aching with pain and emptiness, Harry was finding it unbearable. He absentmindedly picked at the scratch on his arm that the thorn had made yesterday, and found himself comforted by the small prickles of pain that shivered through him as blood began to leak from the cut again.

It gave Harry an idea. Kneeling, he rooted around in one of the draws of Dudley's old desk, praying that he'd find what he was looking for. He smiled slightly as his hand clasped around something cold and metallic and he pulled out the old Swiss army knife with an inward crow of victory.

He flicked open the knife element and spent a few moments admiring the sharpness of the blade. Glancing at his already bleeding arm, he momentarily paused and guiltily placed the photo of his parents face down, ashamed of what he was about to do.

Holding his arm close, he decided to cut just slightly higher than his wrist. He didn't want to die, he simply wanted to feel enough physical pain to satiate his mental agony.

He pressed the knife against his skin, and forced it down and across. With a flinch of pain, he pulled the knife away to look at his work.

The cut was already beginning to bleed, a small trickle running down towards his elbow. For the first time in weeks, Harry's head began to clear and excited by the sudden control he grabbed the knife and made another identical cut underneath.

The wave of relief that overcame him was sensational. He felt better than he had felt for months, and he realised that this was something that he could do for himself. To himself, for himself. He watched for a while longer as the blood ran out of the cuts, then he stowed the knife in his back pocket, and began to pack up his things for the school year ahead.

…

The morning had passed without much incident. Dudley had sulked when Aunt Petunia had forced him to come on the car journey to KGX with them. Harry had smirked slightly when his overfed cousin didn't get his own way for once, although the smile was quickly admonished by a slap from Aunt Petunia for burning the eggs.

Harry was currently in the back of the car, with Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the front discussing Dudley's ever blooming boxing career.

"All you got to do is punch them in the cheekbone – my last opponent was at least 2 years older than me and I knocked him out cold!" Dudley said proudly.

"Oh my ickle diddykins is such a grown up now!" Petunia gushed, unaware of Dudley's flash of red embarrassment.

Harry was surprised that Dudley was so clearly uncomfortable with his Mother's cajoling. Then again, Harry hadn't seen much of Dudley this summer. He'd been out with his gang of friends almost every day, beating up little kids in the neighbourhood for their pocket money. He supposed that Dudley really did think of himself as a 'hard' man now, and Petunia's admiration did nothing to support this.

Petunia saw Harry staring at Dudley in her rear view mirror, and quickly turned to face him.

"You'll need to do something about that face" she hissed, eyeing his bruised cheek bones, broken nose and black eye.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. He too had come to this conclusion, but was uncertain of how to conceal his appearance before he got to Hogwarts. After all, he was under-age and unable to cast a glamour charm on himself until then.

"Yes Aunt Petunia" he replied sullenly, lowering his gaze and staring at his clasped hands.

Seemingly satisfied with this response, Petunia turned back to the steering wheel. Dudley was looking at Harry, a curious expression on his face.

"How did YOU hurt yourself so badly anyway? Not like you even left the-"

"He hurts himself when he's gardening" Aunt Petunia interrupted Dudley, speaking slightly tremulously.

Harry couldn't believe that Dudley was completely unaware of his Uncle's actions. He'd assumed that all three of the Dursleys were in on it, and always pictured them having a laugh at his expense. Dudley turned back to the front, smirking while Harry felt a wave of pity for his blindly foolish cousin.

….

After what seemed like an age, they arrived at King's Cross. Not bothering to say goodbye, Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage and started to walk towards the barrier. Halfway there, however, he remembered his bedraggled appearance, and suddenly had a glimmer of inspiration.

He opened his trunk and found his invisibility cloak. Throwing it over himself and his trunk, he told Hedwig to fly to Hogwarts. She looked at him dolefully but gave him a soft nip and took flight. Satisfied that no one would be able to see him, he went through to the platform and quickly found an empty compartment on the train.

Swinging his feet up, he settled on the luggage rack next to his trunk which he placed visible in front of him. There were several occasions this summer when he had been locked in his cupboard as a punishment, so the small, cramped space didn't bother him.

He could just about see through the window on the other side of the compartment, and noticed a worried Ron and Hermione peering over the platform. He had no doubts that they were looking for him, and a pang of sadness echoed through him.

I'm not good enough to be their friend, he thought. I'm freaky and useless and…crazy.

The last he said as he looked at his arm, and felt the bruises all over his body aching. His uncle was right. He didn't deserve to be here, not when someone like Cedric had died. Because of him.

Harry reached into his back pocket, something that was made incredibly awkward by his current position, and pulled out the knife that he had stowed there.

Without hesitation, he plunged it into his skin, repeatedly adding lines upon lines of cuts. Blood was trickling down his arm and once he was out of the haze of relief, he saw that he had cut a fair bit deeper than last time.

Grabbing a packet of tissues from his bag, he wrapped them around the open wounds on his forearm, cringing slightly as they met his skin with a sting. That's enough now, he told himself.

He rolled onto his back, and fell into a nauseated sleep as the train rumbled out of the station.

…..

Hours later, Harry awake. Momentarily forgetting where he was he tried to sit up, and was met by a nasty knock of his head against the ceiling.

Below were three students, who were at present changing in to their Hogwarts robes.

Harry felt his heart beat hard in his chest as he realised that he was in a slightly precarious situation, while the students below continued to talk in hushed voices.

"Father said that I may be able to contribute something myself" a drawling voice said "But obviously with OWLs this year he'd like me to focus on those first. I'm aiming for 10 O's"

Draco Malfoy was tall, pale and pinched. His white blonde hair was hanging slightly longer than it had done previously, and hand was entwined with Pansy Parkinson's. She was short and had an upturned nose, giving her a slightly piggy appearance. Her hair was dark and long, and her expression was one of pure adoration as she gazed at Malfoy.

Harry kept as still and silent as he possibly could, willing the train to pull into Hogsmeade soon. He didn't fancy being caught by three Slytherins in his current state, and had no doubt that Malfoy would only add to the bruises.

"Oh yes Draco, you'll certainly do well, although I doubt you're going to do better than me" the third Slytherin said in a bored voice. Blaise Zabini was an extremely handsome boy with olive skin and chestnut eyes. He reeked of aristocracy, which was one of the many reasons Draco Malfoy associated himself with him.

"I imagine Hermione Grange will do the best in our year" Blaise continued, as Pansy's colour rose with indignation.

"That filthy mudblood doesn't even deserve to go to our school" She spat, her eyes filled with spite "She, Weasley and Potter are insufferable, thinking they're better than everyone else"

Draco rubbed her back in a futile attempt to calm her, and she turned in to hug him.

Harry wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but Malfoy looked rather reluctant to hold the girl close. He noticed that Malfoy and Zabini seemed to be communicating something over Pansy's back, but couldn't work out what they were doing.

Only a few minutes later, the three Slytherins left the compartment and Harry was startled to see that they were pulling into Hogsmeade Station. In relief at finally being able to use magic again, he quickly pulled the blinds down and cast glamour upon glamour over himself. Once satisfied with his appearance he towed his trunk off the train and headed towards Ron and Hermione who were anxiously waiting on the platform.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, and Harry suddenly worried that his glamours weren't holding. "Where have you been?! We've been looking for you the whole journey!"

Harry met eyes with Ron, who raised his eyebrow slightly but then snickered and clapped him on the back "Good to see you mate".

Harry tried not to flinch with pain from Ron's slap. Neither of them could ever find out about his summer at the Dursleys.

Hermione pulled him into a hug, her eyes filled with concern which Harry suspected was because he hadn't answered her question. Thankfully, she didn't pursuit it, and the three of them made their way up to the castle for the opening feast.

Harry was home.


	3. Settling In

**Chapter Two**

The routine of school settled in surprisingly quickly, and Harry relished the time with his friends. He went about his classes as always and soon learnt that OWLs year was going to be significantly more stressful than any previous year at Hogwarts.

Hermione had taken this in her stride, organising homework planners for the three of them and spending almost every spare minute in the library, while Ron scoffed at her behaviour and was spending most of his evenings disappearing to the quidditch pitch with Fred and George.

In previous years, Harry would have joined Ron outside.

Not this year.

On these quiet evenings, Harry would go straight to the dormitory which was almost always empty. He'd draw the curtain around his bed, pull out the old penknife of Dudley's, and draw red lines down the inside of his arms.

The more Harry did it, the deeper he found he had to cut. Dribbles of blood would spurt down his arm, as his glassy eyes stared emptily through them.

Every night, Harry would lie awake in bed and fear that his Uncle would somehow crash into the dormitory and rape him in front of everyone. He was so mortified that he stopped trying to sleep at night and would instead read over his notes from class, or continue to cut himself.

The result of this was that Harry had grown considerably thinner. The glamours he used hid a multitude of sins, including the yellowing bruises from Vernon which refused to heal.

He was also exhausted, and was becoming exceedingly withdrawn from the population of the school. The teachers had noticed and McGonagall in particular had become concerned, but Harry's rising grade in her class reassured her that he was just overdoing it with the studying.

On this day, McGonagall called for him to stay after class, and Ron and Hermione left looking concernedly back at him.

"Mr Potter, although I am exceptionally happy with how your transfiguration studies are going, I must insist that you cut down on the revision. You look paler than the Bloody Baron." McGonagall said sharply.

Harry didn't meet her eyes "I'm sorry Professor McGonagall. I just want to do well in my OWLs".

"Be that as it may, I want to see my seeker healthy for the first match of the season!" McGonagall gave him a small smile "We need to win this year Mr Potter – I won't see Severus with that damned cup".

Harry smiled half-heartedly. Quidditch was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

"Speaking of Professor Snape, Mr Potter, he would like to see you in dungeons during your next free period". And with that, Professor McGonagall dismissed him.

As Harry walked to History of Magic, he wandered what he had done to upset Snape so early in the term. To his memory he had yet to be caught fighting any Slytherins, and his Potions work had improved considerably.

Sighing to himself, he carried on down the empty corridor and made a spur of the moment decision to skip Binns' lesson.

Instead, he slipped into the nearest toilets, sat on the cold stone floor, and pulled out his knife again.

There was barely any room left on his forearm to cut, so he went lower than he usually dared and pulled the knife across his pale wrist.

Blood immediately started to rush, vivid against his skin. Sighing in relief, he pulled the knife again and again, until he felt so euphoric that it dropped from his hand.

Lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, he briefly wondered whether he'd cut too deep. He found that the idea of dying didn't bother him as much as it had before.

At least he would get to see his parents again.

When the bleeding eventually quenched, Harry slowly stood and gently wrapped his arm in some tissues. He hadn't cut deep enough to die today, but he wasn't sure that he wouldn't tomorrow.

 **…**

Harry had a free period after History of Magic, so he slowly climbed down to the dungeons to see Snape.

When he arrived, the door to Snape's room was slightly ajar and inside Harry could just make out Malfoy through the gap. He pressed his ear against the door in an effort to hear what they were discussing.

"…until I've finished Hogwarts" Draco Malfoy was saying "but I don't know if I can do it, sir. I don't want to do it."

Harry jumped as he heard Snape's voice, much closer to the door.

"You _have_ to do it, Draco. This isn't a silly game you play with your Slytherin friends. It's your life, your family name, everything. You can't tell anyone. Where do you think I'd be if people knew that I was gay?"

Harry jumped back from the wall as he heard footsteps approaching. Running back up a few steps, he then turned and started to saunter down as the door opened, hoping that he looked as though he'd just arrived.

"Ah, Mr Potter. You're late. 5 points from Gryffindor" Snape drawled.

Harry didn't care. He'd rather lose 5 points than his head, which he certainly would if Snape found out he'd overheard him.

"Mr Malfoy, you may leave now. Potter here is starting remedial potions, not that it will do him any good."

Harry's face flamed red as Malfoy sniggered past him.

"Remedial potions Potter? You must be dreadful."

Harry ignored him and stormed into Snape's classroom, feeling exceedingly frustrated. Dropping his bag on the floor, he turned to face Snape as he followed Harry back inside.

"McGonagall said you wanted to see me, sir?" Harry steamed.

Snape looked Harry up and down, and Harry was suddenly very aware of the glamours he was wearing. Was it possible for a wizard to see through them?

"I certainly do, Potter. Dumbledore has asked me to keep an eye on you and I believe it is time you learnt the art of Occlumency. This will be vital in the fight against the Dark Lord"

Harry thought for a moment "Occlumency…I read about it a few days ago. It's like creating a barrier to your thoughts, so that Leglimens can't access them. Is that right?"

A flash of surprise crossed Snape's face, but it quickly returned to his normal scowl. "Indeed, Potter. Perhaps you won't be as useless as I thought".

They spent the next 20 minutes going through the incantations and various techniques at blocking one's mind. Then, suddenly, Snape shouted "OCCLUMENS!" and an assault of memories plagued Harry's mind.

He was 9. Dudley had stepped on the spider that had kept Harry company in his cupboard for the past few weeks.

The sorting hat was telling him he'd do well in Slytherin.

Wormtail was raising his wand at Cedric.

He was turning over the photo of his parents and pulling out his penknife.

He was cowering in the corner as Vernon burst through his door and undid his belt…

"NO!" Harry cried in desperation, and with a sharp burst of pain he found himself lying against a desk in the dungeons.

Snape was staring at him, his pallor pale.

Harry hurried to his feet. The burning shame inside him was beginning to rise, and he turned without a second thought, and ran.

 **…**

Harry didn't stop running. The tears pouring down his face were an embarrassment. He needed pain. He deserved pain. Finally reaching a boys toilet, he rushed inside and pulled the knife out. Just as he was about to pull it across his wrist someone spoke.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

Harry's heart sank, and he quickly tried to stow away the knife.

Malfoy lunged forwards and grabbed it from his hand, pushing back the sleeve of Harry's robe at the same time.

"Please don't tell anyone. I know it's stupid. I know I'm a joke. I just didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry. Please…" Harry babbled in panic.

Malfoy immediately sat next to Harry, and pulled some Essence of Dittany from his bag. Applying it gently to Harry's arm, he soothed him "Shhh, shh. It's ok. I understand. You don't need to worry."

Harry's wails dyed into muffled sobs, while Malfoy continued to apply the dittany to his most recent cuts. "It doesn't get rid of scars for self inflicted cuts" he said "but it will stop you from bleeding out".

"W-what if I don't want it to stop?" Harry muttered, fearfully glancing at Draco as soon as he'd said it.

"Trust me. You do." Finished, he put the dittany back in his back and put his arm around Harry, pulling the distressed boy into a hug.

Harry was shocked. The fear of being discovered had been replaced entirely, and he found that this side of Draco Malfoy was exactly what he needed right now.

"Are you-are you going to tell anyone?" He whispered, looking Draco straight in the eyes.

"No. It's not my business" Malfoy replied. He stood, brushing off his robes "I'd better get back to class. Your arm will be fine for now Potter". He offered Harry his hand, who accepted and was pulled up to his feet.

For a moment, the two enemies gazed at each other, both of them having had their beliefs about the other completely abolished. Then, Malfoy strode out of the toilets, leaving Harry watching him go.

From then on, Harry became obsessed with watching Draco Malfoy. At meals he barely ate, but he always made sure he sat on the side of the table that he could see Draco in front of him. In potions, he moved tables so that he was slightly closer each lesson. In free periods he would get the Marauder's Map and trace Malfoy's movements with his finger.

If Ron and Hermione noticed this, they didn't mention it. They were however making a noticeable effort to include Harry in their evenings. Ron would wait until Harry was in the dormitory before heading to play quidditch, and Hermione had taken to revising in the common room.

Harry, however, continued to feel his mood sink.

He started using the invisibility cloak to sneak past Hermione and cut himself in the dorm. He used excuses of headaches and illness to duck out of playing quidditch.

He spent most of his time outside lessons either cutting, or watching Malfoy.

His first potions lesson with Snape after the Occlumency lesson had been a disaster. Snape had picked on him for everything he did, and had held him back at the end of class.

"While I relish spending time chasing after you, Potter, I do not appreciate you running away from your lesson on Monday evening". Snape looked at the boy with his black eyes.

Potter looked at his feet "Sorry sir…I felt sick so I had to run…"

It was a poor excuse and they both knew it.

"Tell me, what was the memory of your Uncle, Potter?"

Harry's heart started to beat faster "I – it – it was nothing, sir" he breathed "He had just borrowed my belt and was returning it to me".

Snape raised an eyebrow in disbelief "You expect me to believe that that troll of a man would fit into a belt of yours, Potter?"

At that moment, the bell had rung and Harry had grabbed his bag and sprinted out as quickly as his feet would take him. He had been avoiding the potions master since.

 **…**

As the winter passed, Harry grew further and further apart from his friends. He had lost interest in everything that he used to enjoy, including quidditch. McGonagall had been shocked when Harry had quit the team, but Harry insisted he needed to study, and that Ginny was an excellent seeker.

He had noticed that Draco was becoming increasingly quiet too. The brief moments when he saw the other boy out of class he wasn't surrounded by his usual posse.

Instead, the two boys had become almost civil and smiled at each other in the hallways.

It was on a late night that Harry could be found wandering the castle under his invisibility cloak. He still wasn't sleeping, so he decided to stretch his legs.

He had, of course, brought his penknife with him and was now entering the boys toilets on the 4th floor with the exact intent to hurt himself.

However, he got no further than the bathroom sinks when he saw a figure in one of the cubicles, the door wide open.

It was Malfoy.

It was Malfoy and he wasn't alone.

Harry was shocked into stillness as Pansy breathed heavily from the cubicle. He felt a tear run down his cheek and wiped it away feeling stupid.

He turned on his heel and ran, unknowingly dropping the Marauder's Map on the bathroom floor.

He ran into the corridor, and settled in a small crevice of rock under an open window. Pulling his robes back violently he thrust the knife into his skin, twisting it this way and that.

Tears blurred his vision, and he didn't see the silhouette approaching him until Draco was right there next to him.

"Go – go away! I don't want to talk to you!" Harry wailed.

Malfoy ignored him and came to sit next to him in the crevice. Harry noticed that Malfoy was crying too.

"I'm sorry Harry. I should have told someone. I should have helped you." Malfoy whispered. "You've cut too deeply this time. I have to take you to a teacher."

"NO!" Harry screamed "I DON'T NEED HELP. I DON'T NEED ANYONE"

Malfoy gazed at him for a moment, and then quick as a flash pulled out his wand.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry went rigid, the knife dropping from his hand with a clatter while tears still dribbled down his unmoving face.

Malfoy cast a levitation charm, and started to take Harry down the stairs towards the dungeons.


	4. Too Close

Chapter 3

It seemed like forever before Harry was able to move again. As soon as the uttered 'Finite Incantatem' took effect, he jumped to his feet, head snapping from side to side like a wild animal with blood gushing from the wound in his arm.

Malfoy had brought him to Snape.

Harry looked quickly for an exit route, but the only door he could see had a tired looking Draco Malfoy blocking it.

"Mr Potter, I do not appreciate being woken up in the mi-" Snape stopped midsentence, suddenly noticing the blood dripping onto the floor from Potter's left arm.

"I'm s-sorry sir, I didn't know where else to take him…" Malfoy trailed off, biting his lip as he judged the Professor's reaction.

Ignoring him, Snape had moved forwards and was pouring an unnamed potion down Harry's throat.

"Calming draught" he said simply, and indeed Harry stopped his panicked jerking and sank to the cold stone floor in a heap. He had ceased crying, and was now staring straight ahead with glassy eyes.

Snape pushed up Harry's sleeves, furrowing his brow as he saw the number of wounds. "Draco, fetch my Essence of Dittany. Second shelf on the left."

Malfoy collected it, stumbling over his own feet in the hurry. He thrust the bottle at the Professor who immediately applied liberal amounts to Harry's arm. The effect was instantaneous, and the jagged red marks faded into ridged scars.

Harry looked down at his arm, which had now been released by Snape. He glanced at the Professor, mistaking his concerned expression for disgust, jumped to his feet and bolted through the office door without a word.

Harry ran, heading straight to the Gryffindor common room. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget. If he found his bed now, he could pretend this had never happened.

Finally reaching the Fat Lady, and with no sounds of footsteps following him, he uttered the password and wearily climbed through the portrait hole, trying to catch his breath.

Climbing into his four poster bed, he wondered at how numb he felt. He couldn't even bring himself to feel anxious about the events of this evening. Perhaps it was the effects of the calming draught, but Harry soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry awoke slowly to Ron's face squinting down at him.

"Mate, it's time for breakfast. You'll miss it!" said Ron, stepping back and pulling on his shoes.

Harry sat up. He'd slept through the night for the first time in a long time, and felt extremely well-rested.

"Alright mate, I'll be right behind you" he smiled as Ron flashed him a grin and ran down the stairs to the common room.

Harry grabbed his towel and was going to take a quick shower until he suddenly remembered what had happened last night.

'No…no…'he panicked. Snape knew about his arm. He knew! Feeling bile rise in his throat, Harry rushed to the toilet and threw up. Inadvertently scratching his arm, he searched for his pocket knife. It wasn't there.

Really anxious now, Harry tore everything out of his draws and pocket until his belongings were strewn across the entire dormitory.

"WHERE IS IT?" he screamed, nobody near to give him an answer.

He ran back into the bathroom, and in a flash of inspiration, smashed one of the small shaving mirrors in pieces. He grabbed the smallest shard he could find and with a sigh of giddy relief, pulled it all the way down his arm.

Finally feeling in control, Harry repeated the exercise until blood dripped from his fingertips. He quickly vanished the rest of the broken mirror, and wadded his arm with tissue.

Feeling that perhaps he could now face the Great Hall for breakfast, he hurriedly dressed and made his way downstairs.

As he entered the Great Hall, Harry surreptitiously scanned the head table for the sour potions professor. He wasn't there. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started making his way towards the Gryffindor table when he felt a gentle touch on his back.

Turning, he was surprised to see Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was glancing from side-to-side, as though he were worried anyone should see him.

"Meet me in the toilets in 5 minutes Potter" he hissed, and with that he stalked over to the Slytherin table to be immediately fawned upon by Pansy.

Harry felt an odd flickering in his stomach, and decided that he didn't fancy any breakfast after all. Telling Ron and Hermione that he'd forgotten his potions essay, he left the hall and headed straight for the toilets.

Malfoy found him there a few minutes later, pacing.

"Har-"

"Look, Malfoy" Harry interrupted before Malfoy could start mocking him "Please forget about what you saw last night. I'm already ashamed, and I don't need your pity making me feel even worse. I'm a fucking failure, okay? And I know that, so just leave me alone."

Without waiting for a response, he tried to walk past Malfoy and leave the bathrooms, however Malfoy grabbed hold of his arm on the way past and pulled Harry to face him.

"Potter. Listen to me. I know you may not like me all that much, but I can't just stand here and watch you self-destruct. Please talk to me. Let me help you" said Malfoy pleadingly. He was still holding Harry's arm tightly to him.

Harry looked at him for a moment, searching the blonde boy's grey eyes for any hint of trickery. When all he found was concern, he stopped trying to pull away from him. Instead, he found himself beginning to cry.

Draco moved to rub the boy's back, while Harry tried desperately to hold back the tears.

"You can't help me Malfoy. No one can. I'm not worth it anyway" Harry whispered lifelessly.

"Of course you're worth it, Harry. I think you're worth it" Draco blushed as he said this, but determinedly continued rubbing the boy's back.

Harry wiped his eyes and muttered a quick 'thanks'. Not knowing where to look, he found himself drawn to Malfoy's eyes again. They were flickering silver in the light, and he was suddenly overcome with an urge to stroke the boy's face.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and gently touched Malfoy's cheek. It was soft, and much warmer than he'd expected. Growing bolder, he pushed back the blonde hair which was flopping into the boy's eyes.

Malfoy held his breath, his heart racing. He wasn't sure why, but Harry's hand was making his skin tingle in an extremely pleasant manner. He met Harry's eyes, searching them curiously. Then, with no thought as to what he was doing he pulled Harry close and embraced him in an intimate hug.

It seemed like they were there for ever, in the cold bathroom embracing tightly. Eventually Malfoy pulled away.

"I'm sorry" he said worriedly "I just- I just needed that".

Harry hid his disappointment at the sudden emptiness which was returning to him.

"It's fine, Malfoy." He said coldly "But don't expect it to happen again"

With that he stalked out of the bathroom, leaving Malfoy looking after him with concern and confusion.


	5. Party

NB: I have taken inspiration from one of my favourite stories in this chapter, Right hand Red by lq_traintracks

Chapter 4

Harry spent the rest of the day determinedly avoiding Draco Malfoy. Instead, he hung out with Ron and Hermione, occasionally throwing a joke or laugh into conversation so they wouldn't notice how despondent he was.

It wasn't until their final lesson of the day that he became decidedly anxious again.

It was Potions.

With no idea what Snape would say to him, he tried to sneak away from his best friends. Hermione, however, was quick to chastise him and pull him along to the dungeons.

"It's only potions, Harry. You've already dealt with Professor Snape for 4 years – you can handle a single period" she sighed at him.

Ron shrugged, and gave Harry a clap on the back in support.

They were slightly early to the potions lab, much to Harry's relief as it meant he could nab a table right at the back of the room.

The class gradually filled with a hubbub of chatter, which went silent as soon as Snape strode in from his office. Harry kept his eyes focussed solely on his desk, too scared to look up and find Snape or Malfoy looking at him.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped at the closeness of the voice, and looked up to see Snape leaning over him with angry eyes.

"Have you listened to anything I said, Potter?" Snape sneered "You'll observe that everyone else is already collecting their ingredients".

They were indeed, and Harry jumped to his feet and ran to the store cupboard before realising he didn't know which potion they were making.

Looking back to see if Ron or Hermione were nearby, a ball of paper suddenly hit his head. Frowning, he unravelled it and found the list of ingredients necessary for amortentia. He tried to see who had thrown it, but by now everyone was chopping their ingredients and filling their cauldrons.

The rest of the class passed surprisingly without incident. Harry's potion was decent enough that Snape passed without comment, and when the bell rang Harry packed his bag as quickly as possible.

"Mr Potter…a word." Snape drawled from the front.

Harry's heart sank. Slowly he plopped his bag back down on his desk and walked to the front of the room. Ron and Hermione shot looks of sympathy at him as they walked out of the door, and Harry knew that they'd be waiting for him in the common room when he headed back.

"Take a seat, Potter" Snape said, conjuring a chair

Harry sat down nervously, anxious to get away.

"I have not told anyone what I saw last night. I do not plan to do so if and only if you agree to stop" Snape sat behind his desk, looking closely at the boy. "This cannot happen again. No matter how much we may despise one another, I have no wish to see blood gushing from your arms."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't planning on letting Snape see that again. It didn't mean he couldn't still do it.

"Show me your arms." Snape commanded.

"Er – I- I…" Harry stuttered.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "If you do not show them to me now, I will have no choice but to force you"

Harry's chest deflated, and he slowly rolled up the robes on his arms. The new cuts he'd made earlier were glaringly obvious against his pale, scarred skin. Not daring to meet the Professor's eye, he sat with his eyes down and arms extended in front of him.

Snape huffed disgruntledly, before hastily applying essence of dittany to the boy's arms.

He worked in silence, until the cuts had all faded and only neatly raised scars remained. Sighing, he ran his eyes over the boy in front of him. The boy was pale and wan, although he had recently gained a bit of weight back which was encouraging. He had been far too thin when he had returned to school.

Harry darted a quick glance up at him "Please can I go now, sir?" he whispered

"Yes, dismissed. I expect to see you in my office at 8pm tomorrow for Occlumency" with that, Snape watched the boy half run from the room.

* * *

Several weeks passed by, and Harry was able to stop wearing his glamour charms. His bruises had finally healed, and he had started to comfort eat in an attempt to make himself feel better. This meant that he had gained rather a lot of weight in a relatively short amount of time.

If Ron and Hermione noticed anything off about Harry, they never mentioned it and continued their attempts to include him in their activities. Harry was grateful, but preferred spending his free time alone. He had continued to cut himself, and had now moved onto his thighs so that Professor Snape wouldn't see.

One such evening, when Harry was alone in the dormitory having already slashed his legs, Ron Dean and Seamus all burst in.

"We're having a party, Harry!" Ron said excitedly, pulling on his best friend's arm

"Our entire year is going – including Hannah Abbott" Seamus puckered his lips and kissed the air "I'm definitely going to try and get a piece of that!"

The boys all laughed, and Harry joined in. Honestly, he couldn't care less about Seamus' crushes or a party. He just wanted to be alone.

"Come on Harry, we're going over now" Ron grabbed his arm to pull him up but Harry resisted

"I think I'll give this one a mi-" before he could finish, the 3 other boys had forced him up and were pulling him along with them. "It'll be fun mate" Ron insisted.

They lead Harry to a door he'd never noticed before on the seventh floor. Inside was a large room with a fire roaring, music playing (although Harry couldn't find the source), and several bottles of firewhisky piled haphazardly in the corner.

Everyone in their year was indeed there. Everyone.

"Oi oi Potter" Blaise Zabini stumbled towards them, clearly already drunk "Finally showing your face"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but before he could Zabini was pulled backwards by Draco Malfoy. Their eyes met briefly, and Harry quickly averted his and headed with Ron to grab a firewhiskey.

"RIGHT, EVERYONE SHUT UP" Pansy Parkinson shouted to the room.

Everyone looked over at her, quite a few faces filled with distrust.

"As you so kindly invited us Slytherins to your party, we would like to suggest a game of twister" Pansy smirked at the confused faces. "If you don't know it, come over here and I'll explain the rules".

Harry watched as the first group competed at Twister. It was a game which he knew Dudley owned, but he'd never been allowed to play it before. Neville was surprisingly agile, and won the first round with ease.

"Next group" Pansy Parkinson shouted over the music "Draco, Abbott, Potter and Finnegan"

Harry looked across the room and met Malfoy's eyes for a moment, before going to stand at the edge of the square mat.

"Oi, Hannah" Seamus winked at the girl "Why don't you start next to me?"

Hannah blushed and went to stand next to Seamus, forcing Draco to begin on the edge next to Harry.

"Left hand…BLUE" Pansy shouted. The four contenders reached down and placed their hands on a blue dot.

Harry was already struggling to concentrate, hyperaware of Malfoy's presence so close to him. He wished Pansy would hurry up and give the next instruction.

"Right hand…RED"

He flipped onto his back, so that his arms were behind him with each hand on the correct colour. Unfortunately at the exact same moment, Malfoy crossed his right hand over Harry's shoulder so that they were pressed against each other.

"Sorry" Malfoy muttered, trying desperately to look anywhere except at Harry.

Harry's cheeks were pink. He could feel Malfoy's breath against his cheek and his hair was falling into Harry's eyes.

Behind them, it seemed that Seamus and Hannah had got themselves into a similarly intimate position, although perhaps that wasn't so accidental. People were whooping and giggling at the two of them and weren't paying much attention to the two enemies.

Draco's eyes widened and Harry's blush deepened. He'd known it would happen, and now here they were with Malfoy able to feel Harry's erection pressing into his thigh.

"Potter…" Malfoy breathed

"'M sorry" Harry mumbled, praying for the moment to be over. This really was excruciatingly embarrassing. As he looked away, he caught Hermione staring at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. Then she whispered something to Pansy who finally continued with the game.

"Left foot…YELLOW" she shrieked with glee, craning her neck to see Hannah and Seamus who had begun snogging in a drunken stupor.

As Draco moved his foot, he slipped and fell, taking Harry down with him. They landed with a thump on top of each other, Harry's erection still pressing into Malfoy's thigh.

That was when Harry felt it. Something pressing into HIS thigh. He drew in a sharp breath and looked at Malfoy, who was now the one to blush. Curious, he gyrated his hips, pressing into the other boy.

Before he could help it, a soft moan escaped Malfoy's lips. Clapping his hand over his mouth, he jumped up hurriedly, pulling his jumper down to cover any sign of wont.

"Good game, but I think it's obvious who the real winner is" he smirked, gesturing at Seamus who was now lustily pulling Hannah out of the door.

Everyone laughed, the music back on full blast as Pansy called out the next group of names for Twister.

Harry used the distractions as an opportunity to slink out of the door himself, leaning against the wall outside once he'd done so. What the hell had just happened? He felt sick. His Uncle had been right – he was queer. He deserved everything he got.

Eyes beginning to water, Harry stumbled into some toilets, pulling out the shard of mirror. He looked at himself in it, seeing his puffy, empty eyes and wet cheeks.

With a dangerously aggressive stroke, he pulled the shard against his arm, tears still flowing as he repeated the action again and again. It was only around half an hour later that he realised he'd cut a word into his skin.

With a small humourless laugh, he rinsed his arm and cast a glamour to conceal the cuts. There was no way he could explain how the word 'FREAK' had appeared there, so he'd have to make sure that no one ever saw it.


End file.
